It’s not you, it’s me
While there is much about the state of pregnancy that irks me (my size, my skin, my involuntary abstinence from alcohol, my inability to chase down my child while attempting to dress her – the list is endless), what bothers me most is my irrationality.
Normally, I pride myself on being a logical thinker, able to understand others and make myself understood. Right now, I can’t even understand myself.
By rational and logical, I don’t mean that I’m usually calm. I can get plenty riled up whether I’m nursing a hormone cocktail or not. But I’m not typically so ridiculously emotional, reeling from one end of the spectrum to the other. Last night, for example, I was ready to go kick some Canadian psychiatrist’s ass, but I couldn’t see from the tears of laughter after reading an exchange that I foresee taking place at my own dinner table in about a year or so (just substitute asparagus for brussel sprouts and tuna for salmon).
(Oh, and the MAN/WOMAN roles at the dinner table would totally be reversed.)
A two year-old’s elbow in my ribs makes me growl, a talking (and spinning!) Disney Princess lamp of a five year-old’s choosing induces involuntary sarcasm, and when an almost thirty-eight year-old man relocates to the guest room in the middle of the night because he claims that I’M snoring (pot and kettle, my love), I stomp all the way in there to give him hell (and then stomp all the way back up two flights of stairs, slamming the basement door behind me).
Considering that the people I adore most in the world manage to irritate me unintentionally, it’s no wonder that my trips through my feed reader spark some…uh, STRONG reactions.
It’s not my favorite bloggers themselves who are pissing me off; on the contrary, it’s the people who are antagonizing them (either in the context of the post or in the comments). While I would typically be able to temper my responses and present logical reasoning to back up my disagreement, the hormone cocktail I’ve been swilling makes me want to resort immediately to dropping f-bombs.
Obviously.
So in the interest of preserving some semblance of my usual online persona, you may see me click in and click out with nary a word. I’m not breaking up with you, I swear.
Really. It’s not you, it’s me.
November 14th, 2007 at 5:21 am
You know even though I’m not pregnant I am an emotional roller coaster. I read posts that make me want to scream, shout, sneer, swear, you name it – so sometimes I just have to keep clicking… it’s safer for everyone involved.
November 14th, 2007 at 5:43 am
I remember wanting to take my husband’s head off daily, after I finished crying because I was so sick.
I like The MGM TURBO, though, so I’m hoping that you’ll let it fly at my place.
lmao.
xo
November 14th, 2007 at 7:31 am
I had somebody, where I usually comment, write an entire post indirectly at me that I was going and leaving without commenting and she knew it because she has stat technology so she KNOWS THINGS….it kind of freaked me out.
Some days, you just don’t comment ANYWHERE and it’s been one of those kind of weeks lately more than not.
Now, I will go back to lurking again.
Oh, and I still had to occasional glass of wine with dinner while preg, and the kids are hardly brain damaged at all…just sayin.
November 14th, 2007 at 8:22 am
We’re so connected to the blogs we read. It’s natural to get pissed.
Hell. I’m ready to throw that lamp right out the window for you.
November 14th, 2007 at 8:25 am
Well, I’m just glad I made you laugh instead of slam a basement door.
And, dahlink, I’m just thrilled when someone clicks on my blog after searching for “removing wallpaper behind toilet”. So you just pop in and out at will.
November 14th, 2007 at 9:28 am
Feel free to scream as necessary. It’s your perogative as a pregnant gal.
November 14th, 2007 at 11:45 am
Everyone in my house is scared of me when I am pregnant, lol. So I totally feel your pain!
November 14th, 2007 at 1:35 pm
I’m not allowed to get pregnant again.
Primarily because if I did I would have had to sleep with someone OTHER than my husband, but BESIDES THAT … b/c I’m rather … um…witchy about 30 weeks in.
Those last weeks have me crawling I carry so low. If I’m crawling everyone is gonna know about it.
November 14th, 2007 at 2:21 pm
Oh, the HORMONES!
November 14th, 2007 at 2:53 pm
At least you’re woman enough to admit it. Some people are not (Bossy we are looking at you.)
November 14th, 2007 at 3:09 pm
I’ve gone through this three times. I know that nothing you do while pregnant can be held against you.
November 14th, 2007 at 7:38 pm
If you need a good scream, feel free to give an earful to the PR guy I had to call out on my blog today. NOT cool.
November 14th, 2007 at 8:03 pm
I think you need some sort of badge or disclaimer. WARNING: Blogging While Pregnant!
November 15th, 2007 at 7:45 am
I haven’t gotten ridiculously outraged yet, just emotional. Horribly emotional. And I’m not emotional. Sometimes I look in the mirror and yell “what have you done to my brain??”
November 15th, 2007 at 11:42 am
Just what I need…another hormonal woman to antagonize the psych dude…leave that to me, my love and you just focus on popping that kid out.
Just think, soon we’ll both be on the other side of this and be the calm, rational, logical women we both so obviously are.
Snigger.
November 15th, 2007 at 9:52 pm
DUDE. I SO know. I SO KNOW.
November 16th, 2007 at 9:08 am
When I was four months pregnant, Jeff and I went to a college football game.
My one pleasure in the 10 months of eating healthy, abstaining from alcohol and not medicating my debilitating migraines was a cup of coffee a day. And I wanted GOOD coffee dammit.
Jeff was in a hurry to get to the game and told me we would stop for coffee on the way. As it turned out there was a lot of traffic and he didn’t want to stop, saying he’d get me a cup of coffee on campus. After an hour and a half I ended up with the a crappy cup of Maxwell House from some campus bar. I had a major pregnancy meltdown and to this day it is a running joke that if I do not get my coffee I will be a force to be reckoned with.
Yeah, pregnancy does strange things to us all, even if we’re not dealing with anything too horrific. Hang in there sistah.